


Aftermath

by KucatsHouse



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst, Book 2: Lord of Shadows, Book 3: Queen of Air and Darkness, M/M, Sad Alec, Spoilers for Book 2: Lord of Shadows, Supportive Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KucatsHouse/pseuds/KucatsHouse
Summary: Alec must confront the aftermath of the disastrous Council meeting that resulted in the passing of his father.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and story concept the property of Cassandra Clare.
> 
> This takes place during Queen of Air and Darkness (right before Julian visits Magnus) and contains spoilers for the ending of Lord of Shadows. 
> 
> Character death is mentioned but not depicted.
> 
> I wrote this in a sudden fit (and in a span of 2 hours) after a non-related post by mutuals on Tumblr. Sorry in advance for the angst.
> 
> You probably want to have some tissues handy.

The house was quiet, almost everyone having gone to bed already, but Alec couldn’t sleep. He sat in the dark of the Inquisitor’s house, wedging himself as small as possible on a stiff armed velvet couch that sat in the study. His long legs were curled in, arms wrapped around his knees, blue eyes staring blankly out into the empty room. His face was pale except for the very arches of his cheeks, which were stained pink from the effort of holding his emotions in.

It had not been an easy day, although he had not expected it to be. Even if things had not gone the way it all had, the result would have been similar: fear and discord amongst the Nephilim. The only difference was who that fear and discord had been directed towards - and the subsequent casualties.

The boys still didn’t know, and Alec didn’t know how to tell them. Rafe may not react having only been with them such a short time, but Max…how would Max take to the news? They already knew something was amiss having been present during Octavian’s outburst; they had seen the tears on streaking Isabelle’s face, witnessed the mournful looks on his face, on Magnus’, on Simon’s. Perhaps Max and Rafe would bear it all better than them - they would certainly fare better than Alec.

Simon had to be the one to tell his mother, neither Alec nor Isabelle having the ability to speak around the tightening in their throats. He did not know how Maryse reacted to the news, but the look on Simon’s face had not suggested anything but sorrow.

Throughout it all he had held it in, the fear and the dread. He had maintained a stony exterior ever since Diego had stormed the Consul’s chambers, ever since the Centurion had uttered those two simple words.

_“Your father —“_

Alec had known then, deep down, that he wouldn’t make it to the Council Hall in time. He had raced flat out, arriving in time to see the aftermath of it all. A whirl of dark magic, broken glass everywhere, Julian Blackthorn bent over the body of his sister, and his own father in the blood soaked ruins of his Inquisitor robes.

When he closed his eyes, Alec could still see the chaotic Council Hall. The coppery smell of blood still invaded every breath he took. He could still hear the shouting, the cries, the anguish. Alec tried to clear his head with a sharp shake. His fingers dug into his arms, nails biting into his skin and leaving deep crescents.

“Alexander?”

Alec turned to the tired voice and found Magnus standing at his side. The warlock looked exhausted, deep bruises under his eyes. Magnus knelt next to him and placed his hand on Alec’s knee, blue robe swirling in his wake.

“Alexander,” he said again, his voice soothing and his eyes boring into Alec’s. Alec tried to smile for him, belying the emotional turbulence he was experiencing.

“How are you feeling?” Alec asked quietly. The hand on his knee tightened as Magnus shook his head, dark locks waving wildly with the motion.

“Nevermind me, love.”

“Magnus.” He spoke his love’s name in that way that Alec used with the boys, when he wanted them to listen without shouting. “You collapsed in Jia’s chambers today.”

“Yes, well, not my most dignified moment.” 

“You’ve been ill for weeks. We should get you to bed so that you can regain some of your strength.” Alec moved to stand, but the grip on his knee tightened. Despite Magnus’ weakened state, he gripped Alec with enough force to keep him in place.

“This isn’t about me right now.” Magnus sighed, his shoulders slumping. He fixed an intent gaze on Alec, gold irises glimmering in the dark. The hand on Alec’s knee moved, cupping warmly around his cheek. “How are _you_ feeling?”

How _was_ he feeling? Alec didn’t know how to articulate what was going through him at the moment. He had spent so many years hiding who he was, had learned how to suppress his true feelings. Although the last few years had seen Alec change into a person who freely expressed his thoughts, grief did the opposite. He found himself reverting, bottling it all in, receding from the world - becoming the lost, scared boy he had once been. But as the first tears in hours begin to slip down his face, Alec realized this was too big for him to hold in.

“I don’t…” He choked on the words, needing to take in a gulp of air and swallow thickly. “I thought we would have more time. We were just starting to work everything out.” Alec scrubbed at his eyes with his shirt sleeve but it did no good; the tears kept flowing, the dam having been broken. His voice shook when he next spoke. “It always felt like Dad would defy the idea that Shadowhunters die young. He had survived so much: the Uprising, the Circle, two wars.”

Magnus listened quietly, his hands moving randomly as Alec spoke. Fingers gently caressed Alec’s neck, moved along his arm, stroked his knee. He touched Alec as much as possible, providing silent comfort and encouragement.

“We didn’t always get along, but you know that. But things were getting better. We were talking more. And…I was hoping…I thought…I wanted to make him proud of me.”

“Oh, love, you did. Robert is…was so proud of you.” Magnus leaned forward, kissing Alec’s tear streaked cheek. “You are a lucky man, Alexander. Your father loved you so much. I know he did and said things that hurt, things that were unforgivable, but he did try. And he truly did change. He tried to make the world a better place for you, for Isabelle.”

A sound like a whimper left Alec. The tears continued to spill even after he closed his eyes, wet lashes quivering against his cheeks. His breathing came in hitching gasps, his chest feeling too tight. Magnus’ illness, the discord in the Clave, the Cohort, and now his father’s passing. It was all becoming unbearable, even for someone like Alec. Robert’s death had been the breaking point.

In a rush, the anguish, the hurt, the sorrow of the day spilled out. He had held it all back for the boys and for Isabelle. But with only Magnus with him, Alec let it all out. Magnus’ hands were on him, shifting their positions until they were together on the couch. Alec felt himself enveloped into strong arms, pulled in tight to Magnus’ side. He was glad for Magnus’ steady presence, the hands rubbing his back, the whispered words in his ear. Burying his face into Magnus’ neck, he held on tightly, his fingers clenched around a fistful of silk as his whole body shook with his sobs.

He had regrets - that he hadn’t told his father how he felt, that he never told Robert how much he loved him - and now he would never have that chance. Robert, who loved Max and Rafe because Alec loved them, would never see the boys grow. He wouldn’t get the chance to watch Simon and Isabelle marry. He wouldn’t have the opportunity to witness Alec changing the world. 

Alec wasn’t ready to say good-bye to his father, but tomorrow he would have to. As the minutes passed and his sobs eventually quieted, he only hoped that his father was at peace. He hoped he was with Max and that they were both happy.

Always beloved. Always remembered.

_Ave atque vale._


End file.
